The USS Birmingham remained under heavy lockdown from guarding Coastguard and military boats. Flood lights on the deck provided the investigators the chance to work around the clock, and hovering helicopters used their search lights for the sea around it.

However at 2107 hours, a short radio message put a stop to all of the work, causing the investigators to disembark from the boat, the boats to move away and the helicopters to fly off. The floodlights were unplugged. In the distance, thunder could be heard grumbling from within a large covering of dark grey clouds. The rumbling grew louder as it approached towards land, lighting the skies in flashes of green and light blue. The storm gravitated around a mile from the shore, giving on lookers the opportunity to watch from a distance, most noting the unusual nature of the storm. After four minutes, the storm ceased as quick as it had appeared.

***

The next morning was business as usual, with only a brief mention of last night’s storm on the weather reports. Storms were common place around here.

A local police officer got out of his car and locked it up. He was met by a local fisherman who ushered him towards the beach. It was early, so the beach did not have many people on it before no doubt filling up as the sun got brighter later on.

As they walked down the steps, the officer spotted the reason why he was there. He quickened his pace, increasing the distance between him and the concerned fisherman. Lying face down on the sand, at the point where the water meets the beach before being pulled back out, was what appeared to be a person. As he got closer he could tell the person was a woman, heavily soaked in dark green combats and an aviator jacket. In his final steps approaching, the officer radioed for an ambulance. Dead or alive, she was going to need removal.

Crouching beside the figure, with his back to the sea, the officer noticed a crowd gathering. Let’s get this over with, he thought. He placed his hand on the shoulder of this washed up person to roll her over onto her back. No sooner as he had touched her, from nowhere an arm shot up, whacking the officer square in the chest and sending him flying fifteen feet or so in the air, causing him to land in the water twenty feet away.

Kimona, got up, and like a startled animal cornered by its prey, jerked her head around taking in what was going on. Her head hurt and she was confused. Ahead of her, she could see the far flung and now saturated officer was trying to pick himself up against the waves and behind her the crowd of people were either running or had stuck around to hold up rectangles at her. The officer was now on his feet, aiming what Kimona recognised to be a gun at her, shouting to her to get down.

Scared, she felt from within burning instincts that told her to get away. She listened to them, and ran. The officer tried to give chase, but struggled against the pull of the tide and was unable to safely get a shot off. The remaining crowd parted for Kimona, deciding that intervening wasn’t in their best interests.

Running past one guy, Kimona heard him say, ‘Yo guys, my first time seeing a new enhanced in action! And here in Florida!’ Kimona continued for the stairs and reaching the top, crossed the road. Unusual and unfamiliar looking vehicles honked and beeped in an expression of anger at having to swerve and avoid hitting her. Ignoring the sounds, she carried on down a quieter looking street, knowing to at least stick to the pavement.

Optimistically taking a left, Kimona ran towards what was a busy market square. There was hustle and bustle with people pottering and milling around. Pausing to take stock, Kimona surveyed the crowd, not recognising the clothes people were wearing or the vehicles they were driving. The sound of sirens gradually filled the air and the vehicles they belonged to appeared on one side of the square. And another. They were boxing her in. A bigger and boxier police vehicle pulled up ahead of her, officers exiting from the rear. Shouts, noise and the fuzzy sense of disorientation all gave Kimona a risky moment to pause.

What’s that? The sound of a metallic object bouncing twice and then rolling caught her attention and Kimona honed in on its place of rest before smoke filled the street. Unbeknownst to Kimona, the streets had emptied of people, but their screams from the smoke and her own confusion and loss of sight snapped her back to the moment. Through the clearing of smoke, more police officers arrived. Kimona stepped forward, much to the objection of the surrounding officers. Giving in to her instinct to flee again, Kimona ran right and sprinted for the centre of the market. Just as soon as she did, the police didn’t hesitate and fired at her.

A nearby planter disintegrated in the hail of bullets as she passed by it, causing her to lose her footing. She tripped, rolled and crashed side-on into a small cookies and coffee retail stand. The structure splintered and showered down onto Kimona dramatically, freaking her out and the pursuing police behind her. They’ve not been used to ones like her in this part of the country.

Bursting from the rubble, Kimona jumped out and continued her escape, heading towards the centre of the square. An alley way at her eleven o’clock position a potential for her getting away. The shooting continued, but none hitting the target.

Kimona noticed the big water feature of upward shooting jets and headed for it, hurdling a bordering hedge. Bullets whizzed past too close for comfort as she landed and rolled again, this time landing perfectly onto the wet ground. She rolled with the momentum and carried on. She headed into the jet streams, interrupting their skyward journey with her passing movement. Whilst still wet from the sea, this new water felt different as it soaked her through again. Clean. Crisp. Clear.

Nearly making it through the jets, a shot from not too far away rang out and hit Kimona in the shoulder from behind. She tumbled in what felt like slow motion at the force she was hit from, and she put her hands out in front to prevent herself face planting on the concrete. She could feel the bullet passing through, but strangely with no pain. As the bullet had entered her shoulder blade, her body, her physiology, became that of water, parting for the bullet to pass through and closing up once it had exited. The bullet landed on the floor in front of her before she herself landed from the fall. This time, when her hands hit the ground, she executed a near perfect forward roll, landing on her feet and not losing momentum at all. She was getting better each time. But how?

She sprinted for the alley and it didn’t take her long to clear a hundred metres. It led her to a junction with a busier road. Not really thinking clearly, Kimona headed straight out into the road and into the oncoming traffic. A car, too late to stop, sounded its horn and ploughed right into a petrified Kimona. Instead of sending her flying, the car’s entire front crumpled around her, bouncing off her and up into the air. It landed with a crash on its roof a few metres away.

Patting herself down for any injuries, and alarmed at still being stood on the spot, Kimona had to keep running. She knew the right thing was to stay and help those people, but she had to get away. More shooting sounded out, spurring Kimona to hurdle the hood of another passing vehicle and into the other lanes of traffic, this time being more careful to avoid cars.

Once clear of the road, Kimona spotted a parking lot and lots of people, giving her a better chance of escape. Where am I escaping to though? Continuing with a pace, Kimona darted between parked cars, occasionally ducking behind them to scout the area, her senses heightened. Seeing and feeling a clear route ahead of her, she went across the lot and into a now bustling tourist hot spot.

Sirens could still be heard and this kept her going. Sirens equalled danger. Weaving through the crowds, many thoughts were now entering her mind. ‘Where am I?’, ‘What the hell is going on?’ and ‘How am I not dead?’ were the main ones that kept rolling through. She crossed the street and took a small side street to avoid a roaming police car.

A shout came out from behind her and it sounded different in tone to the previous ones being shouted by The Men With Guns. Not wanting to stop, Kimona quickened her walk, but another voice called out, just as less-threatening as the first.

“Hey lady, wait!” came the second shout.

“It’s ok, we don’t want to hurt you!” called out the first voice again.

Kimona stopped and slowly turned, taking in her surroundings as she did, assessing for risk. The street was a quieter one, with a more residential feel than a commercial one. In front of her stood two boys with what Kimona recognised to be like bicycles, but not like the ones her and her sisters had.

“Do you think she can understand us?” one of the boys asked the other.

His friend shrugged and called out, “Do…. You…. Understand… U-”

“Yes child. I understand you. But you have to get out of here. There are people after me and I… I am not quite the me I remember me being. I might be dangerous. I feel dangerous,” she explained hurriedly.

The boys stood, staring open mouthed at the wet lady before them. After a quick beat, they burst into celebratory animation which caused Kimona to flinch.

“Sssssh, keep it down. They’ll find me!”

“Lady, it’s ok. We have come to help you,” the second lad said. He quickly dismounted his bicycle and offered it to Kimona. “Quick, take this. Do you know how to ride one?”

“Of course I do. My sisters and... My sisters and I had our own,” she replied, taking the handle bar from him. “Back home.”

“Follow us and we’ll chat more at mine.”

“…Chat?” muttered Kimona under her breath, as she pedalled off after them.

***

The newly acquainted trio arrived into a residential cul-de-sac and glided towards the drive way of one of the houses at the end. The garage door automatically opened, allowing the boys to cycle straight in. Kimona abruptly applied the brakes, half in awe of the automatic opening of the door, half in fear of it. Where am I? What is this?

“Quickly, get in, I need to close the door,” the boy urgently waved a small box at her, and pressed it as Kimona crossed the threshold.

She turned back and studied it closely as it shut. As soon as it had, she let the bike fall to the floor and looked at the boys who had come to her aid.

The shorter one who had given up his bike for her had bright, short orange hair, round glasses and a splash of freckles under his eyes. He wore a turquoise tee shirt with a dolphin on it and a pair of green shorts. The taller of the two was of Indian heritage and had black moppy hair under a grey baseball cap and was wearing a purple hoody.

After a brief moment of looking at each other, all three asked in chorus, “Who are you?”

Kimona, in more desperate of clarity and information, went first, “Please, you have to help me but you’ll have to bear with me on this. None of this makes sense. My name is Kimona Jones. I’m twenty five years old and a pilot. I was flying from England to Nassau and… there was a storm. It’s all a bit vague but I remember a storm.” Both boys climbed onto the large chest freezer behind them, already enthralled. “Yes, there was a storm, but not one like I had ever seen before.”

“What happened then?” Dolphin Boy asked, but Grey Hat elbowed him to shut him up.

“I… I crashed and… I thought I was going to die. I did die. Did I die? But then I woke up on a beach and threw someone into the sea. A police officer?” Kimona looked at the boys and then at her hands, before letting them drop at her sides. “Can someone tell me where I am?”

“Truumdale, Florida, ma’am,” Grey Hat replied. “And that someone you threw into the sea was a police officer.”

Kimona pinched and rubbed the top of her nose, just between her eyes. It was all a bit much to take in, her heart beat faster.

“Why were you flying across the Atlantic anyway? What happened to your passengers?” Dolphin Boy asked.

“Passengers? No, no. I didn’t have any. I was attempting to break the world record for a woman flying solo from England to the Caribbean.”

“World record? Why?” Grey Hat said chuckling, “people do that all the time.” He looked at Dolphin Boy confused as to why there would be a world record for that nowadays.

“Pardon? People do it all the time? What people?” Kimona frowned, hands on the top of her head now.

“Pilots, airlines. People travel all around the world all the time,” offered Dolphin Boy.

“Lady, when did you start your flight?”

“Yesterday. The fifth of April.”

The boys looked at each other and then back at Kimona.

Dolphin Boy dug something out of his pocket, and activating the light, showed it to Kimona. “But it’s March twentieth today…” he said.

Kimona cautiously examined the strange light being held at her and read the date written over a photograph of Dolphin Boy with a dog.

“March twentieth… Two thousand and… twenty nine?” Kimona’s eyes widened in horror, and her hand flew to her mouth.

“Yeah of course, when did you think it was?” Grey Hat asked.

“Well I… I took off in 1939,” Kimona mumbled, an intense feeling of light-headedness causing her to crumple at the knees. Dolphin Boy jumped down and helped to steady her back up.

Looking at her with similar wide eyes, he said, “Ma’am, that was ninety years ago.”